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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27342538">certified freak, seven days a week</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiecarter/pseuds/susiecarter'>susiecarter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DC Extended Universe, Suicide Squad (2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Stimulation, Confessions, Couch Sex, Extra Treat, First Time, Forced Cohabitation, Kissing, M/M, Post-Canon, Sharing a Bed, Size Difference, Size Kink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:41:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,182</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27342538</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiecarter/pseuds/susiecarter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In retrospect, there really hadn't been any way out of this.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>GQ Edwards/Waylon Jones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>184</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Shipoween 2020 - The Halloween Ship Exchange!</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>certified freak, seven days a week</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nixie_DeAngel/gifts">Nixie_DeAngel</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I, um, didn't quite intend for this to get as porny as it did, but I'm weak for forced proximity and your smut likes spoke to me—so I hope you enjoy this late treat, and happy Shipoween! ♥</p><p>Title borrowed, perhaps inevitably, from the lyrics to "WAP", because once it occurred to me that I could use them, there was no hope. /o\</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>GQ woke up hard.</p><p>He didn't know where he was, at first. It was really fucking dark, and he didn't recognize whatever it was he was pressed up against; it wasn't his own mattress, his sheets. He'd have thought he'd fallen asleep on a sofa, except he didn't have one, and also that only explained half of it, the surface against his back. Underneath him, there was something else, something with a texture he understood dimly was familiar, cool, smooth, with faint dips and creases beneath his fingertips—</p><p>He came awake fully in a single sudden jolt, whole body tense. Shit, fuck; it had just been a dream, it had always just been a dream before. Croc wasn't supposed to <em>actually</em> be lying right here, with GQ's stupid dick losing its fucking mind over it. And if he'd woken Croc up by fucking—fucking <em>humping</em> him in his sleep, Jesus fucking Christ, he was going to have to go to the other side of the planet and find a hole to die in. If Croc didn't rip his head off his shoulders first.</p><p>He didn't move. He didn't breathe.</p><p>Croc made a soft muffled noise, twitched a little underneath GQ and then settled again.</p><p>Okay. Okay, great. Now GQ had to figure out how to move away, how to create some safe distance and make his dick calm the fuck down, without actually being able to move away.</p><p>They were in Croc's cell, crunched in on his couch together—it was an enormous couch, which was the only reason neither one of them had fallen off of it yet. There was nowhere else in here to sleep, except the water, and GQ wasn't quite crazy enough to have suggested that as an option.</p><p>Croc was underneath, taking up most of the actual couch. And GQ was about three-quarters on top of him, lined up along the back of the sofa, head on Croc's shoulder. He had an arm slung over Croc's chest—jesus, he thought, cringing—and one leg between Croc and the back of the sofa, one thrown over Croc's thigh, fucking fuck.</p><p>And of course, of <em>course</em>, the same thing that had gotten them stuck in this situation meant that GQ very literally could not get up.</p><p>He shifted an inch at a time, pausing after each and every movement to wait with bated breath, see whether Croc was going to come awake. Longest two minutes of his entire fucking life. He just—he just needed some way to prop himself up, get his hips away from Croc's side, Croc's fucking thigh. And god, there was no way he could jerk off without waking Croc up; he was just going to have to lie here in the dark, trying to think about anything <em>except</em> the giant crocodile man he was involuntarily plastered to bodily, waiting for his stupid boner to go down on its own—</p><p>And then he fucked up. To be fair, this was not the kind of thing anybody was meant to have to get used to; it shouldn't have been an issue, for him to lift his hand off Croc's to try to push himself up a bit.</p><p>But he couldn't do that, not anymore. And when he tried to move his hand, Croc's hand came with it, a good six inches, and that was the beginning of the end.</p><p>He winced, stopped short and lowered his hand back down as slow as he could—but it was no good. GQ's eyes had adjusted, now, and he could pick out the vague contours of Croc's face through the dimness; he could spot it, the moment Croc's eyes opened, the shine of them. Two, three, slow double-blinks, both sets of eyelids. And then Croc turned his head a little, aimed a sleepy stare at GQ, and shifted a brow, interrogative.</p><p>GQ wondered dimly whether it would help any to just ask him outright to ignore GQ's cock and go back to sleep, please and thank you.</p><p>"Uh," GQ said. "Hey."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>In retrospect, there really hadn't been any way out of this.</p><p>It came back to ARGUS, because it always did. The research division had been trying to come up with a new way to handle communications on ops—something that wouldn't require equipment, that couldn't be intercepted or jammed. They thought they'd nailed it, come up with a magic solution: literally.</p><p>And GQ and Croc had been the lucky guinea pigs.</p><p>It had made sense, admittedly. The two of them checked off a whole lot of boxes, things the geeks would've wanted to test anyway; one human, one not-quite-human. Team that could make use of it on land and underwater, if it worked. And, of course, subjects who'd already signed all the releases and indemnifications there were—GQ had done it voluntarily, and Croc had never had a choice in any of it anyway.</p><p>They'd been going for a mental connection, temporary. And so, of course, because it was ARGUS and they were fucking around with shit they didn't understand, what they'd gotten for their trouble had been a physical link, and one they'd spent an eighteen-hour day trying to undo with fuck-all to show for it.</p><p>GQ and Croc had been standing there, facing each other, waiting for something to happen. And then there'd been a light, and a <em>shift</em>, and GQ had found himself wondering what had happened—whether Croc had lost his balance, grabbed instinctively for GQ. Because suddenly Croc had been pressed up against him at the shoulder, arm around him, side of his chest to GQ's back, hips just brushing.</p><p>Weird, he'd thought, and shifted to put a hand on Croc, to try to steady him, before he stepped away.</p><p>Except he hadn't stepped away.</p><p>Couldn't, they discovered. Neither of them could. They were fucking stuck.</p><p>It had been funny, almost, except for all the ways it wasn't. Seemed like the spell or whatever insisted on about thirty percent of their surface area in contact, at all times; they could let go of each other in one spot, as long as they started hanging on somewhere else.</p><p>They could walk, sort of—if Croc was curled halfway around GQ, hulking over him, chest to GQ's back. Croc had actually carried him most of the way to Medical, in the end, because it was awkward but not as awkward as the half-cuddle half-three-legged-race maneuver they had to pull to get anywhere. They couldn't sit in separate chairs, couldn't get in separate beds. GQ had had to sit on Croc's fucking lap for half their official examination, because there was nowhere else he could get to.</p><p>And of course, when they'd been sent off to get some sleep and see whether midnight passing would break it, GQ had had to go with Croc. No way were they going to let Croc go anywhere except Belle Reve.</p><p>Not that it had been a bad thing, hanging out with Croc in his cell. They did that all the time, even when they weren't superglued to each other with magic. GQ had felt fucking stupid for it, but—a tiny part of him had been twelve years old and downright thrilled, getting to go on a sleepover. Not having to leave.</p><p>That was the worst part of spending time with Croc: that sooner or later it was always over. Sooner or later GQ always had to leave.</p><p>But not this time.</p><p>And it had been basically the same as always, except all the ways it wasn't. GQ was—he usually had to be careful. He had to make sure <em>not</em> to touch Croc too much, not to make it weird. That was his number one priority, always. Not to make it weird. If he brushed Croc's scales in passing, that was fine; but he didn't get to touch them, run his hands over them, linger. If his knee bumped Croc's while he was settling into his seat on Croc's couch, then okay; but he didn't get to sit there and press their legs together hip to ankle, didn't get to press himself up against Croc's side.</p><p>This time, though, he had to. He literally couldn't stop. He didn't even have the option. It had been basically the best, worst thing that had ever happened to him in his life.</p><p>After an hour or two of BET, he couldn't even manage to be anxious about it anymore. He couldn't even manage to keep himself in check properly. Around one in the morning, he'd started slumping without meaning to; Croc was just so fucking big, so solid, and it wasn't like GQ could have <em>not</em> leaned into him, even if he'd wanted to.</p><p>So he had. He'd started yawning, eyes closing when he hadn't told them to. He'd roused a little when Croc had turned down the volume on the TV, protesting that he didn't need to. Croc had just looked at him for a second and then, not unkindly, said, "Shut up."</p><p>And then—he must've fallen asleep, though he didn't know when it had happened. He'd fallen asleep, and Croc had picked him up again, moved him, lain down with him. He'd slept, and he'd dreamed, and his stupid fucking cock had lost its nonexistent mind in delight at having Croc right there for real to rub up on, because GQ hadn't already been close enough to fucking this up for good.</p><p>Fantastic.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Croc didn't move for a long minute, didn't say anything. GQ lay there half on top of him, and now at least he didn't have to worry about waking Croc up; he could shift his weight, angle his hips away, for all the good it was going to do him. Croc could probably still see it just fine, even in the dark. Croc could probably <em>smell</em> it, for that matter, and jesus, that was not going to help him get rid of it at all.</p><p>"Look," GQ said at last, because the stretching silence was fucking killing him. But he didn't know where to go from there, and he stopped and then cleared his throat, stalling, pointless.</p><p>Croc huffed out a breath. "Good dream," he assessed, voice a quiet rumble in his chest that GQ could feel through his ribs.</p><p>"Uh, yeah," GQ admitted, because it definitely had been.</p><p>Croc turned his face away. "Who?" he said, even quieter than before.</p><p>GQ blinked. And in his defense, he was just so many steps past that point, with this thing, that it didn't even occur to him that he could've lied until he'd already opened his mouth and said, "What d'you mean, who? You, dude."</p><p>Croc went still all over, and turned his face back toward GQ, gleam of his eyes in the dark as he stared.</p><p>"I mean," GQ said, and winced, covered his face with his hand. "Shit. Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Like this wasn't awkward enough, jesus—"</p><p>"Me," Croc repeated.</p><p>"Well, yeah," GQ said, surrendering, because he'd already screwed himself; the least he could do was own up to it. "Obviously. You're so—look at you, man, there's nothing else in the world like you, and you've saved my life like five times, and I just—I sort of—I'm not trying to make it weird, but I—"</p><p>Croc moved under him, seismic, and reached up, and GQ figured out what he was doing about a second before his hand covered GQ's mouth, broad smooth palm mercifully stopping any more words from falling out of GQ's face.</p><p>Croc looked at him searchingly, and GQ lay there and waited, heart pounding. And finally Croc tilted his head, narrowed his eyes a little and hummed in the back of his throat, and suddenly moved again—moved <em>GQ</em>, just sort of casually took hold of him and shifted him over, up Croc's body, centered; settled those huge hands on GQ's thighs and—and drew them apart, and GQ's breath caught so loudly he felt his face flush hot just listening to himself.</p><p>"Uh—Croc—"</p><p>"Me," Croc said again, and there was a funny note in it this time, pushing, testing; but GQ couldn't hang on to that thought long enough to try to figure out why, because then Croc slid his hands up over GQ's uniform pants, to his hips, to his <em>ass</em>, and fucking <em>squeezed</em>, and GQ made a weird noise and shuddered all over, cock straining against his fly so hard he thought he could feel every individual tooth of the zipper, Jesus fucking Christ.</p><p>"Oh, god," he said faintly, clenching his hands into fists against Croc's chest, panting, and he was about to try moving, pushing back into Croc's grip or grinding down against Croc's waist, or maybe he'd just do his best splitting the difference—but Croc was staring at him now, really <em>staring</em>, and wait a second. "Wait, did you—you thought I was just fucking with you or something?"</p><p>Croc kept looking at him, and didn't answer.</p><p>"I wasn't," GQ said, in case that wasn't obvious enough. "I wouldn't. I wasn't."</p><p>"Yeah," Croc said slowly. "I see that."</p><p>And GQ went flushed again, felt his face go hot, because yeah, Croc probably <em>could</em> see it; GQ's boner had been enthused before, but now it felt like it was about the size of Texas.</p><p>And then, well. They fucked.</p><p>It shouldn't have been a surprise, maybe. There were only so many places a conversation could go, when you were hard and you were sitting on a guy who had his hands on your ass. It was just that GQ had spent a hell of a lot of time telling himself this was never going to happen, that he needed to get a grip and remember that; and now here he was, Croc's eyes on him while he fumbled his fly open, Croc's big blunt fingers helping him work the waist of his uniform pants, his briefs, down his ass.</p><p>Croc seemed to just kind of want to feel him up for a while, which was basically torture. GQ gasped and squirmed while Croc ran his fingertips over it felt like every single square inch from GQ's waist to the tops of his thighs, as intent on the dips beside his hipbones as on his actual freakin' dick, and never mind that one of those things was a lot more desperate for some attention than the other.</p><p>And of course Croc had a dick, too. His was a lot neater, simpler, closed away behind a long scaled slit low on his belly; GQ wouldn't even have noticed he'd let it out, except he was rocking helplessly against Croc's grip on his hips, panting, and then Croc shifted him back an inch and suddenly there was something stiff and slick pressed against his bare ass.</p><p>After that, GQ kind of lost the thread a little. He was so fucking impatient it felt like hours before Croc finally lifted him up to help him fuck himself on Croc's dick the way he'd been trying to do on his own; and fuck, Croc was so fucking big. Even as wet as his dick was naturally, it took a hell of a lot of work, GQ mindlessly chasing the stretch and burn, sinking down onto Croc as fast as his stupid shivering gasping body would let him.</p><p>"Slow down," Croc said, somewhere in there.</p><p>"Croc—"</p><p>"Slow down," Croc said again, and gripped him by the thighs, made him wait; lifted him up a little and held him there, until his head was halfway clear again. "Okay?"</p><p>"Yeah. Yeah, yes, yeah—please, come on—"</p><p>He didn't know how long it was before he could take the whole thing. He'd lost track anyway; but he knew when he'd made it, because Croc's eyes went all heavy-lidded, and Croc rumbled a little in his chest and then said, deep as a mineshaft, "Good."</p><p>GQ had panted something at him—<i>Jesus fucking Christ, oh, fuck</i>, probably—and then Croc had fucked him. Not even all that hard, really, no porn-star jackhammering; he'd just held GQ still and moved, tight little ripples of his hips, the whole huge length of him in GQ shifting in and out. Probably not more than an inch, but there was so much of him it didn't matter, it <em>felt</em> like the deepest dicking GQ'd ever gotten and then some.</p><p>GQ's whole head had been taken up with that, so thoroughly it almost surprised him when he came. He'd known, in a vague sort of way, that his dick was still there, still hard. It just hadn't really been the point. But Croc had paused and moved one hand, touched it, wrapped his palm around it and <em>squeezed</em>, and suddenly GQ had become aware that he was about two seconds from the edge, and he'd gasped and tensed around Croc's dick, and then forget it, he was done.</p><p>He gripped Croc's shoulders through it, tipped himself forward and tugged Croc's head up—it hadn't even occurred to him until right then that they hadn't actually kissed yet, but suddenly he was desperate to fix that. Croc seemed a little bewildered by it, at first. But he let GQ keep doing it for a minute; stopped fucking him, too, just lay there and waited while GQ kissed him, while he got a feel for it. And then, just barely at first, he kissed back, wide scaly lips parting, big thick crocodile tongue flickering out.</p><p>"Come on," GQ said against his mouth, after another minute or two.</p><p>"Yeah?" Croc said.</p><p>"Yeah," GQ said; and Croc looked up at him and then took him at his word, picked him up—rolled them over, pressed GQ down into the couch under him and pushed right back inside him in one long smooth stroke, and okay, having a wet dream about Croc while magically conjoined to him had actually probably been the smartest thing GQ had ever done.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>There were a couple seams that turned out to be beyond saving. But GQ basically had all his clothes back on by the time Flag came by to check on them in the morning.</p><p>"Still stuck, huh," he observed.</p><p>"Yep," GQ said, because it was true—he'd woken himself up almost falling off the couch, except he couldn't land. He'd ended up suspended off the edge, hanging from everywhere he was touching Croc's scales, everywhere where the magic wouldn't let go.</p><p>They were sitting up, now, but crowded together comfortably, GQ leaning back against the handy headrest that was Croc's shoulder when Croc sat just right. They were getting real good at this supernaturally-enforced cuddling thing.</p><p>"Well, I wish I had better news for you," Flag said, "but frankly the geniuses in Research have no idea what the hell they did to you. So it might be another couple days before they can get you guys unstuck."</p><p>"Oh," GQ said.</p><p>He cleared his throat, rubbed his mouth, and turned his head to look at Croc.</p><p>Croc looked back.</p><p>"Bummer," GQ said.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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